He climbs his lady's tower, where sail Cold clouds about the moon, And at his feet the nightingale Sings--Sir, too soon, too soon ! He steals across his lady's park, He tries her secret gate, And overhead the saucy lark Sings--Sir, too late, too late! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ON BRODSKY'S COLLECTED by MICHAEL S. HARPER NO EXEMPTION FOR TOURISTS by KAREN SWENSON TO COLE, THE PAINTER, DEPARTING FOR EUROPE by WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT THE ADOPTED CHILD by FELICIA DOROTHEA HEMANS LOVE'S PHILOSOPHY by PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY THE JEWISH MARTYRS by W. V. B. |